


Ficlets, Drabbles and Small Pieces

by Raelynn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere to collect all the tiny little things I write in one place.  Will probably be mostly Sherlolly but I've got a few other small pieces that may end up in here.  Will tag appropriately and mention at the beginning as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Third Time's The Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of sherlolly fluff that came to me this afternoon and demanded to be written. Not beta'd, barely edited. All mistakes are mine, except the mistake of these two not being together in canon, that belongs to Mofftiss.

“Molly, I need your help,” announced Sherlock, swooping through the open door to her office like he owned the place. Molly slowly set down the pen that was in her hand, and turned her head, glaring up at Sherlock from her seated position over the top of her glasses.

“Again? That’s the third time this week. What is it now?”

Sherlock opened his mouth and then closed it again, eyes darting around the room. “Three?”

Molly sighed and picked her pen back up, eyes turning back to the paperwork in front of her. “Three. You screwed up your mold samples on Monday, Tuesday afternoon you couldn’t find the right size petri dish, and now this.” When she’d said “couldn’t find” she’d made half-hearted air quotes.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

Molly set her pen down again and stood. “Sherlock, you’re a genius and I keep the most orderly lab on the planet. The petri dishes have been in the same location since I started at Bart’s in 2009. They’ve been there longer than YOU have.”

Sherlock stepped closer to her. Only a few feet separated the two.

“Momentary forgetfulness?”

Molly shook her head.

“Science experiment at home causing amnesia?”

Molly shook her head again, a smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.

“A flimsy excuse to drag you away from your work and spend time with you?” he said, looking at his feet.

“Mmm,” said Molly, taking a step closer. “I think that’s closer to the truth.”

Sherlock closed the distance between them. “Were my excuses unnecessary? You seem so comfortable around me now, I thought your feelings might have changed.” He slowly picked his head up, meeting her gaze.

“Sherlock, I’m fairly sure the only person whose feelings have changed are yours.” Molly put her hands on her hips, staring up at the consulting detective.

Sherlock reached out and put his hands just above hers, pulling her closer to him. “Changed...no. Accepted, that’s more accurate.”

With that, he leaned down, bringing his face to hers, this time finally, finally dropping a soft kiss onto her lips.


	2. Lead Me Not Into Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlolly with a good sized helping of angst. Part of this was previously posted as a WIP, I decided to finally write something to bracket the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote the make-up scene first, and today I decided to finally put something around it. I hope you like. Rated T for references to drug use.

Sherlock was standing at the windows of Baker Street, staring down, when he saw Molly come walking up the pavement. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing what was about to happen, and also knowing there was nothing he could do to stop his tornado of a pathologist when she was angry.

And, if he took a moment to admit it to himself, he deserved every bit of anger tossed his way. But that wasn’t going to happen. 

Molly unlocked the main door and made her way up the stairs, her usually quiet footfalls sounding like cannon shot as she made her way up the stairs. Sherlock kept his back to the door. 

He heard her come in, heard the door close behind her. She paused, then, not removing her coat, not setting her bag down.

She broke the silence, her voice clear and loud and unworried about her anger. “Sherlock Holmes, if you EVER interfere with my job again the way you did today, it will be the last time. I am doing important work. You are not the only person in London who has a duty to perform. Today was absolute bullshit, start to finish.”

Sherlock turned. “Bullshit? I’m trying to solve crimes, Molly. I’m trying to find murderers and thieves. My work is important.”

Molly scoffed. “You want to solve puzzles. If it happens to help greater society, that’s absolutely a secondary concern of yours.”

Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, struggling for the words, “You weren’t looking in the right places. You didn’t run the correct tox screens. I was helping you.”

Molly took a deep breath, and Sherlock took a step back. It took a lot to get Molly to yell. “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO BUST INTO MY LAB, IN FRONT OF MY INTERNS, AND SCOLD ME LIKE A CHILD.” She closed her eyes, obviously trying to gather her wits about her. “If you thought you had information that would be helpful for what I was doing, you know full well I am always happy to consult with you.” She practically spit the world “consult”, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But you will not come into MY LAB and treat me like I’m incompetent and can’t do my job, and you will absolutely not do it in front of others. I have spent my entire career getting the respect of my peers and interns and superiors and all it takes...all it takes is one scene like that from someone they respect, and I’ve lost a decade of work.”

Sherlock scoffed at this. “You are incredibly good at your job. No one thinks otherwise.”

Molly shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Except you, apparently, the one person I thought would have my back.” She turned and threw open the door to the flat, slamming it behind her and making her way down the stairs.  
Sherlock turned back to the window, watching her hail a cab. Back to her flat, then. He sighed, and reached for his wallet and keys.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

It was late when Molly let herself back into Baker Street. She’d thought about just staying home; letting Sherlock stew overnight. In the end, however, she knew that she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. She smiled to herself as she walked up the stairs, a smile that quickly fell off her face as she opened up the door to the flat and saw the sight before her.

Sherlock was sat on the sofa, staring down at a collection of items on the coffee table. A single use needle, still in the plastic, obviously nicked from Bart’s. Rubber tubing. And the small vial of liquid next to it. He didn’t react as she walked in.

She hung up her coat, her slightly shaking hands the only thing that betrayed her cool exterior. She walked and stood on the other side of the coffee table, staring down at the vial and syringe. “What’s all this, then?”

Sherlock looked up. “I was hurt, and angry, and upset.”

“So you decided to get high?”

“No. I decided to prove to myself I wouldn’t.” he looked up at her, imploring her to understand.

“Because you thought I’d leave you if you did?”

Sherlock huffed at this. “No, for exactly the opposite reason. Because I knew if I did, you’d still stay, you’d still love me. You knew what you signed up for; you know I’m an addict. You know that a relapse is almost nearly inevitable. I will put you through hell and no, you won’t leave.

I don’t stay clean because you’ll leave. I stay clean because you’ll stay.”

Molly stepped around the table and sat down next to Sherlock on the sofa. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder.

“You’re right. I would,” she whispered. 

“And so I have promised myself I’ll never put you in that position. And when we fought, when you stormed out of here, the very first place my mind went was that I needed to get high, I needed to forget, I needed to exert some control over everything. But before I even left the flat, I knew I couldn’t do that, because it wouldn’t help anything. It would hurt you, make you have to deal with my issues. So I decided that I needed to know. I needed to know if I could stay clean, because if I couldn’t, then I needed to let you go.”

With that, he stood, scooping up the small vial and walking into the kitchen. Wrapping it up in one of the small kitchen towels, he rummaged around before finding a small mallet. A single thwack and Molly heard the glass crack, saw the liquid soaking into the towel. Sherlock picked the whole thing up and binned it, and then came back to where Molly stood in the center of the lounge, watching him.

“I’m sorry for being an ass, earlier.” he said quietly, taking her hands in his.

“I know you are,” she whispered. “But you have to realize that I’m young, and small, and female, and people don’t automatically respect me like they would someone who was male. I have to constantly prove myself. And having you come in and treat me that way not only hurts my feelings, but it hurts my career.”

Sherlock led her over to the sofa, sitting down next to her, turned so he could continue to hold her hands. “I screwed up. I’m sorry. I let my frustration with the case bleed over into how I reacted to you and I shouldn’t do that.”

Molly leaned over, her head on his shoulder. “Okay. But Sherlock?”

“Mmm?” he murmured.

“This?” she indicated the items still on the coffee table. “This is not happening again. You do not have to tempt yourself to prove you love me, or prove that you can stay clean for me, or anything else. You have worked really hard to get and stay clean this time around…”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, to point out that the last time had been for a case, but she took her free hand and placed a finger over his lips.”

“This time around. And I know it’s a battle, and I know it’ll never be won. But there’s no point in inviting the enemy into your home just to prove you can win.

It’s late,” she said. “I’ll stay here tonight, but we both need to get some sleep.” She stood and led him through the kitchen to the bedroom, casting only a small glance at the mallet still on the countertop, and the bin with the towel in it. 

Sherlock let her lead him into his bedroom, and knew that he’d let Molly Hooper lead him anywhere, and as usual, she was leading him to salvation.


	3. Netflix and Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little drabble!

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, quickly running through his interactions with Molly. She patiently waited as his eyes flittered around. When he finished, he closed his eyes and then slowly opened them, meeting her gaze. “Did I misjudge your intentions? I was under the impression that the phrase ‘netflix and chill’ was some sort of new slang code for sexual activities under the guise of watching a movie. I rather enjoyed the idea.”

Molly bit her lower lip, carefully choosing her words. She reached over and placed her hand on top of Sherlock’s. “My intentions, yes. I did not intend for anything to happen this evening because it would never occur to me that it was an option. My INTEREST, on the other hand…” she trailed off, her eyes dropping into her lap. “...has never changed.”

Sherlock reached over and tucked a finger under her chin, raising her head until he could see into her deep brown eyes again. “Well, then. We’ve achieved the “Netflix” portion of the evening. Seems it’s time to move onto the “chill” part.”

Molly grinned, a blush rising on her cheeks, as Sherlock stood and reached for her hand. He pulled her to her feet. “Shall we?” he said, indicating the door to her bedroom.

Molly smiled and began walking.


End file.
